


Harbinger of Chaos

by amnesiaccyborg



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Can be read as gen, M/M, Odin's A+ Parenting, Ragnarok, The End of the world, everything sucks, kind of, loki's a little shit, or preslash, originally a school essay so not really slash but if you squint it's there, warning: may not be mythologically accurate, whatever you want - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amnesiaccyborg/pseuds/amnesiaccyborg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki had always been told Ragnarok was inevitable, so it was really no surprise when it happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harbinger of Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> So it isn't really thor/loki, because it was a school biography and gay sex is generally frowned upon in essays. Also it was supposed to be kind of mythologically accurate and that may have posed a problem. If you squint, though, it's kinda there.

_The horrified shrieks of pain and anger echoed around Odin, quickly being cut off with a wet gurgle as he thrust into the giants’ midst with his spear Gungir. Again and again his spear impaled itself in throats and stomachs and heads, and again and again more giants took the place of those fallen. The situation, at first seemingly hopeless, was now quickly turning around, as Jotunn after Jotunn was ruthlessly killed. Their size, once intimidating to the warriors of Asgard, was now their undoing. Odin, now free from the Frost Giants that plagued him, looked around with a mild satisfaction. He had known they would win, just as he had known the fight would happen, and he knew what would happen next._

_Silently, he slipped away from the battle, away from the shouts and the screams and the blood. He walked along the avenues of frost, the snow crackling quietly under his boots. Farther and farther he walked, until at last he arrived at the stone building of his visions. He pushed the door open easily, though it was at least ten times his height, and its weight was astronomical. There was a woman standing near the opposite wall, facing away from him. She was a Giantess, though beautiful, with thick, black hair tied back from the nape of her neck. She was holding something in her arms and humming a melody._

_She stopped humming as the door slammed closed, but made no move to turn around. A faint mewling came from the bundle, and was quieted with a gentle touch. He approached the woman, her size seeming ever larger as he continued further. She spoke no words, nor turned to face him. Perhaps there was an understanding here. One could not escape fate, nor could one escape the Allfather._

_With a flick of his wrist, Odin threw Gungir. The legendary spear did not miss. It transpierced her neck, severing her spinal cord before she could make a sound. The bundle was momentarily clutched tighter to her chest, before falling as her arms went limp, no longer able to support it. It fell, shrieking, and Odin caught it, though it was larger than himself, He gently places it on the ground, revealing the face of a child, a Giant child, but a child nonetheless. He gently laid a hand to the babe’s face, the cold, Jotunn blue fading to a healthy pink as the child shrunk. When he reached the size of a normal Aesir infant, Odin picked him up, looking intensely at him._

_“Thus Loki, bringer of the End, is born.”_

~

“We are gathered, Lord.” came the deep, low growl of a Jotunn.

Loki grinned, a twisted, evil thing, and looked out over his horde. Legion after legion of Frost Giants stood, waiting for orders. “Good. Where are my children?”

“Preparing for battle, Lord.”

“Good.” Loki opened a palm, allowing fire to dance across his fingertips. “Good.”

“Shall I signal the march?”

Loki nodded once, sharply. “Ragnarok has come for the gods at last.” He gazed out over myriads of his subjects, waiting for his word. From behind him, a horn roared. Smiling at the sky, Loki leapt off the terrace of ice, fluidly changing forms from god to bird, letting wings carry him to the front of his army. They began to march.

~

_“Ragnarok is inevitable.”_

_“But why? If you know what will cause it, could you not simply destroy the cause?”_

_“You cannot change fate, Loki.” came the gruff voice of the Allfather._

_“Why not? Have you tried?” Loki asked curiously._

_“No, and I do not mean to. I have seen things, things that have already happened, things that are happening, and things that shall happen. I cannot change the past, nor the present, nor the future.”_

~

Loki’s army began to move faster and faster as they approached Asgard, the booming crash of Jotnar feet growing ever louder. It was not long before they reached the Bifrost, before the bellowing grew deafening. He could see a small group of warriors waiting for them on the bridge. The rest of the Aesir and their allies were far behind, still gathering.

He signaled the Jotnar forward, and they happily obliged. Armed with clubs, clumsily forged weapons, and some even empty handed, they charged toward the warriors. At first, despite their huge size, even multiple limbs in some cases, the giants fell. Even though their strength was extraordinary, so were the Aesir, and they had been training for a millennia. One after another, the giants fell, yet more and more rose to take their place. Loki allowed himself a small smirk as the Asgardians began to tire, their legendary abilities failing them. Every time one god fell, more and more Jotnar could prey on them.

As the last of the warriors fell, the Frost Giants, still roaring, thundered forward, their bare feet pounding dully on the Rainbow Bridge. Loki could see the Aesir and the Vanir readying their weapons, looking grimly at the oncoming army. For the most part he could see naught but a grave acceptance, that Ragnarok had truly come, yet there were still those that held hope. He smiled at the thought of crushing it. The Valkyrie and the Einherjar looked on with dead eyes, fierce expressions, and a sense or urgency. Many of the Einherjar were missing limbs, and Loki knew the Jotunns would underestimate the undead warriors. Not that it would matter, all things considered. After all, Ragnarok was fated.

~

_Loki looked down at his hands in horror as the cold, chill blue crept up his arms. His breath came faster and faster as the color spread long his body. He closed his eyes and concentrated, willing the color away, hoping that would he saw wasn’t permanent. When he opened his eyes, his hands were once again the pale ivory he was accustomed to. He let out his held breath shakily. Was this what he really was? Was this why he was so disliked, was there some aura he projected that shouted Jotunn?_

~

As the Frost Giants sprinted toward the Gates, Loki could see the ASgardians visibly tense. He smirked. As the first wave of Jotnar crashed into the gods, Loki raised in arm.

Rising from the ground, droved of undead, spectral shades, followed by Giants. Having a daughter who commanded the dead was useful. From behind him, he could see his son Fenrir snarl. “Patience.” he warned. The wolf quieted.

Loki watched as god after god fell. He could feel his fate approaching like the tide. “Jormungandr!” he called. “Fenrir!” His sons approached, one on padded paws and the other slithering along the ground. “Your time has come.” With a feral snarl, Fenrir leapt forward, tearing out the throat of the nearest god, while Jormungandr simply crushed them under his girth as he went to find the one he was destined to kill.

~

_Odin quietly pushed open the door, Tyr following close behind. The Giantess lay asleep on the bed, her long, dark hair splayed around her face. It did not take long for the Allfather and his son to bind her. Awakening, her eyes filled with fire, though bound and gagged she could do little but rage._

_Odin, ignoring the Giantess Angrboda, walked over to the cribs in the corner of the room. He lifted the first child out, nearly dropping it in horror as it was uncovered. This infant, if it was, indeed, an infant, was covered in scales, with no limbs. It was a snake that the Allfather recognized would become the Midgard Serpent, if allowed to grow. Remembering the prophecy of the Norns, he took the beast and threw it with all his might. The serpent, however, survived, living off of fish and whatever resided in the seas in which it landed, growing larger and larger with each passing day._

_The second child, who appeared normal at first glance, was possibly more disgusting than the first. The bottom half of the child was decaying, like a steak left out to rot. Repulsed, Odin hurled it at the ground as hard as he could. The child smashed through the earth and stone, until she came to rest in Niflheim, the land of the dead._

_The third child was the least revolting. Tyr, pitying the poor pup, begged his father to spare this one, at least. Tyr promised to raise the pup so it would have no reason to hate the Aesir. Grudgingly, the Allfather let him take the wolf to the forest, where he grew larger and wilder and more feral with every passing moment._

_When Loki returned to his home to find his wife fettered and his children gone, there was little he could do but grieve._

~

Fenrir bound forward, leaping over friend and foe alike, searching out the one who had kept him from his father so long. He growled, sniffing the air until finally he located the Allfather, Odin. He vaulted over entire legions of the Aesir, stopping only to cause mayhem and destruction. Soon, he had found him.

Fenrir circled the Lord of the Aesir, growling menacingly. He was surprised when the god made no move to attack. He remembered the phrase his father always repeated, albeit sarcastically, “You cannot change fate.”. With a snarl, Fenrir leapt at Odin, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of his throat. The god did not resist, which only spurred Fenrir on. He ripped and tore at Odin’s neck, claws gauging through his armor, forming deep gashes on his chest. Blood poured off him in torrents, though some small spark of life still held on, no matter how hard Fenrir shook him in his jaws. Dropping the god on the hard, dusty ground, Fenrir glared at him. The sheer amount of blood loss would cause his demise, but it was infuriating that he had not fought back when the wolf practically ripped out his throat. Leaving the dying god to expire alone, Fenrir loped off to crush more Aesir and Vanir between his jaws.

Loki smiled, watching the spectacle from afar. He felt no pity for the old man. As far as Loki was concerned, he brought it on himself. Odin, Lord of the Aesir, Father of All, murderer of innocents. He walked over to the man he once called his father, watching the blood seep out of him. Somehow, he was still alive. Close to death, but holding, barely breathing. He felt Odin’s eyes fix on him. The thought of killing him himself crossed his mind briefly, but this was his son’s kill. The idea of proving Odin wrong about being able to change the future was appealing, but he thought it would spite him more if he didn’t, so he kept his blade to himself. Leaning down next to Odin, Loki brought his lips close to Odin’s ear.

“You should have changed fate, Allfather.” he hissed.

“Loki.” It was not from Odin, however, that said this. The deep, rumbling voice of his once brother Thor came from behind him. “Loki, stop this madness.”

“Is it madness?” Loki grinned, a manic, deranged, twisted smile. “Truly, is it?”

“We were raised together, we played together, we fought together. Do you remember none of that?”

“I remember a shadow.” Loki hissed. “Living in the shadow of your greatness, Odin’s greatness, of every single being in Asgard’s greatness, because I could never truly be one of you-”

“Please brother, stop this before it is too late-”

Thor was interrupted as the great serpent Jormungandr slithered towards him at an alarming speed. It rose up, towering above everything, before his hulking mass fell towards Thor. Roaring, the Thunder God swung his hammer just as the serpent reached him.

For the first time since the battle started, there was complete silence. Neither the snake nor the God of Thunder moved.

“Thor the Terrible is dead!” came a shout.

“The Midgard Serpent has fallen!” came another.

The battle resumed. But the gods, no longer having their king or their prince, were soon to fall.

“Didn’t father ever tell you?” Loki whispered softly, sadly, fondly, kneeling next to his brother’s corpse. “You cannot change fate.”

~

_“Tyr.” Odin sounded tired. “Speak the charges.”_

_“Loki, God of Mischief, Father of Lies, you are accused of treason, of consorting with the enemies of Asgard and of Odin, the Allfather, our King. You have brought nothing but suffering and mischief, plagues and troubles, when all of Asgard has granted you acceptance. What say you in your defence?”_

_“All I have done, I have done for Asgard and the protection of our people-”_

_“Like the left of Idunn?” Tyr asked._

_“I was forced to kidnap Idunn, but I returned her safely-”_

_“Like the death of Baldr?” he continued._

_“I did not kill Baldr, that was a mistletoe spear and Hodr-”_

_“I don’t think he’s a traitor.” Sif came. “A trickster, surely, but no more.”_

_“I agree.” Sigyn said, poor, faithful Sigyn._

_“Enough.” Odin stood.”_

_“You are all but children, you see only what you wish, and think yourself wise for seeing at all. Loki had done grievous harm to Asgard. He cares for naught but himself. Loki is not truly one of us. He is not Aesir, nor has he ever been. Loki is a son of Jotunheim and so an enemy of Asgard. I hereby banish you, Loki, to exile, never to step foot in Asgard again!”_

~

_There was a fear. A fear Loki had not known as the gods of Valhalla chased him through the woods. A terror that gripped at him, as he shifted from man to bird, and from bird to fish to land in the stream, only to have hands snatching at him. Fear, as they dragged him back to Asgard. Horror as Odin condemned him._

_The horror quickly turned to pain and hatred as he was bound to the rocks beneath a giant serpent. The snake only brought back painful memories of a precious few months with Angrboda and their children, of Jormungand. He thought that the bindings were bad enough, but it was only when he was firmly shackled in place that the torture began._

_The long, thin fangs that were above him began to drip with venom. He watched in a mixture of fascination and dread as the first droplet of dark green slowly arced toward his face. It touched his cheek almost affectionately before continuing through flesh as if it were water. Loki screamed as the acidic venom literally burned through him, cursing the Allfather, cursing Thor, cursing every being of Asgard he knew of. He howled as it bit through bone, but he soon learned to stop shrieking as the venom coursed down his throat, burning away his throat and his stomach, down to his intestines…_

_And then it simply… stopped._

_When his eyes began to reform, he could make out a vague shape, a form. When they cleared, he saw Sigyn, loyal, faithful Sigyn, standing next to him, holding aloft a bowl. The respite allowed his body time to knit back together in some semblance of humanity. Soon, too soon, the bowl was full and Sigyn was forced to step away, and carefully carry the bowl over to the ever growing lake of venom to empty._

_And the cycle began again._

_This time, Loki kept his mouth shut, but the acid simply burned through his lips. He screeched until his vocal chords burned away. The acid pooled in his stomach, corroding away the soft flesh. It dripped down his face, eating the soft skin of his eyelids, dissolving his eyes, and there was an unbearable pain, one he could not voice because he HAD no voice, a scorching, white hot pain that twisted his insides…_

~

Loki was used to cruelty. This time, he was simply showing some back. He stood next to the bodies of his son and his once-brother, and for the first time, doubt appeared in his mind.

It was in this moment of uncertainty and indecision that a blade seemed to magically appear in Loki’s chest. He looked down, an almost surprised look on his face, before turning, blade still impaled in him. Standing behind him, now weaponless, stood Heimdallr, defender of the Bifrost. Snarling, Loki reached behind him and wrenched the sword free, and with one sharp snick Heimdallr’s head lay on the ground.

Loki fell to his knees, blood seeping out of his chest and an ache that was sharp and dull at the same time, burning and so cold. He gasped, falling on his side, no longer able to support his own weight. The battle raged on around him, oblivious to the pain of one small Aesir-raised Jotunn. He coughed. The roar of the battle seemed to fade, as if someone had shoved wool in his ears.

~

_“Loki, come play with us!”_

_Loki looked up from his reading, mildly annoyed that someone had disturbed him._

_“We’re playing Frost Giants!” Thor continued. Loki ignored him, looking back to his book. “Come on, Loki! You and I can be the Frost Giants, and Baldr and Tyr can be the Aesir warriors!”_

_Loki sighed as Thor tugged his arm and pouted. “Fine.” He allowed himself to be dragged away into the make believe world of children._

~

Wracking coughs seized Loki, and blood spatters sprayed the rusty red soil in front of him. He gently lowered himself from his elbows onto the ground, until he was staring up at the sky.

~

_“Gotcha!”_

_“No fair, you aren’t allowed to use magic!”_

_“Then you aren’t allowed to go running to Tyr whenever I win.” Loki laughed._

_Thor grinned too, tackling his brother to the ground. “I win this time, brother.”_

_“No, I do!” came the young, childish voice of Baldr, who jumped atop both of them. “I’m King, now!”_

~

His vision swam, getting murkier and murkier as the sounds of the fight grew ever quieter. Somehow, through the murk, he saw his son, Fenrir, leap onto one of the gods - Tyr? Yes, certainly Tyr. The wolf ripped at his flesh, gouging muscle and meat alike, ripping off chunks and gulping them down. Loki thought he would feel some sense of accomplishment at watching his brothers die. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

His breath labored, Loki let his head fall back into the dirt. His body felt heavier and heavier, as if there was a lead weight attached to him. He glanced around one last time, knowing it would be the last time he would look upon the worlds. He clenched his eyes tightly closed, and allowed a small whimper to escape his lips. For if a God of Mischief cries, but there is no one to hear him, does he still make a sound? He felt a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes flashed open, but there was no one there. Just a comforting presence. His heartbeat spread up, the last dregs of adrenaline coursing through his system. He could hear voices in his head, voices of people who didn’t exist, at least not anymore. He heard Thor, his brother, God of Thunder. His constant, “Come now, Brother,” as an attempt to make his reasoning seem logical. He could hear Baldr, laughing gayly, for what was there to be sad about? He heard Tyr, the Mighty, boasting of conquests of old, and Odin, sitting on his throne, murmuring to himself as he always had.

If this was death, then perhaps it wasn’t so fearful after all.

But soon the warmth faded to cold, and the chill permeated his bones so deeply that he was afraid he would split in two from the shivering. He could see Hel approach him, his daughter, and she did not smile, nor frown. She simply took his hand.

“You will stay until the end.” she commanded. “Heimdallr has ended you, but you will witness Ragnarok for yourself.” She pulled him to his feet, yet they were ethereal, wraithlike feet, and when he glanced at the ground his body was still there.

His fingers, once pale and smooth, were now charred, blackened as something evil stirred within the shell that once was Loki. There was a bestial laugh, before Surt - the Black Surt, the Ender of All, arose from the ashes of the God of Mischief’s body. Fire poured from his fingertips, killing friend and foe alike, and ash fell from whence he placed his feet. The air around him crackled, moisture being drawn out and boiled into steam, and from a fiery scabbard slung around his waist Black Surt unsheathed his sword. It burned, wreathed in flame and seemingly made of it, and with every swing charred, blackened bodies fell to the ground.

~

_“It is said that the Fire Giant Black Surt will be the end of us.” Frigg murmured, patting each of the boys’ heads. “It is said he will come from Muspelheim to raze the nine realms before they sink into the sea.”_

_“Why don’t we just kill him now?” Thor wondered._

_“Because your father is very wise.” she replied. “And he knows best.”_

~

The ground burned beneath his feet, the sky burned above his head, and all around him there was death. The walls of Asgard crumbled beneath his gaze, the halls of Valhalla sunk to the ground. Even Niflheim, home of Hel and all the dead, was slowly being consumed. It was in these final moments that Freyr, of both the Aesir and Vanir took up the last of his strength, even as his body burned before his eyes, and threw his sword. With the stench of scorched flesh in his nose, he fell back, unable to see whether his target was hit.

Black Surt roared and fell to his knees, yet his fires burned ever brighter. One by one, the nine realms were consumed, along with everything inside them, until there was only Surt. WIth a final below, Black Surt lay still.

Ragnarok had come.


End file.
